


In Vein

by sterlingstars



Category: The Song of Achilles - Madeline Miller
Genre: Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, High School, M/M, Modern Era, Reincarnation, Teenagers, they're like seventeen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-15
Updated: 2015-08-15
Packaged: 2018-04-14 21:46:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4581267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sterlingstars/pseuds/sterlingstars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes, the universe works in mysterious ways. Sometimes, it recognizes that two people are so tied to each other that there is just no way to keep them apart. And sometimes, the universe gives second chances.</p><p>A love that has lasted centuries finally sees its second chance. What was once lost is found again, and for once, all is right within the world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Vein

It was so long before they found each other again.

But perhaps, there is just something written in the universe for those souls that are so intertwined that they are indistinguishable. As was their case. Two people, cast so far into one another that there was nearly no difference between them, in their core. Two people who could not be kept seperated by time or death, their connection so strong that the stars bent their laws for them, willed time into just the right place, at just the right time, so that they could meet again.

Second chances can be very unexpected.

Second chances, for example, can take place in a small town, between two boys who do not yet have an idea of what they are to one another. Two boys who have been inseperable friends since they were eleven years old, running around with scraped knees and gapped teeth, baby faces grinning as they played baseball in the street and argued over their favorite superheroes. Two boys so attached at the hip that their parents sometimes worried they were too dependant on one another, which was a frightening thing to see in children.

But the boys grow. They grow tall and fair and handsome, a golden haired athlete and his quiet, dark companion, spending nearly every waking moment in each others' presence. They study together and laugh. They attend football games, sometimes skip classes together, laughing and grinning as they drive in a red car and speed to the outskirts of town, where they prop their feet up and nap and sing along to the radio, careless.

And Pat is staring at him, at this boy in the driver's seat next to him, head tipped back as he croons along to the pop song oozing out of the radio. His heart seems to melt into his feet, and he takes Anthony's hand. It's not even strange- they have always held hands, always slept curled around each other when they had sleepovers, always lain across each others' laps and folded their limbs about each other. They've always been almost eerily close, but it's never bothered them.

“Anthony.”

He looks, then, green eyes cracking open to meet brown. He grins, and it's brilliant and lazy, as always. Pat's grip on Anthony's hand tightens. He tastes dust in the back of his throat again.

“Do you feel that?” He asks, gently, unsure.

“What do you mean?”

“Sometimes, I... I feel things, when i'm with you. Sometimes not. I have dreams, Anthony. I see beaches and trees, and I remember swimming in a river I've never seen. You're there. It's glimpes, bits, but I see you a lot. I feel like I've known you for a very long time.”

Anthony is alert. Pat's heart is racing, galloping in his chest. He's never mentoned this. In the barest form of his consciousness, when he is just rising from his dreams, sometimes the normally white ceiling of his bedroom looks dazzling pink. He tastes dust in his throat, smells scents he's sure he's never really come across before. Whenever he takes Anthony's hand within his own, he feels something tugging at him, though he's not sure what. Sometimes his chest hurts for no reason. Sometimes words he doesn't understand float across his consciousness, startling him.

They're staring at each other. It's quiet, the noise of the radio seeming to fade to a hum in the background. Anthony sits up in his seat, feet coming down from the steering wheel, and leans forward. His eyes are luminous in the bright afternoon sunlight, and his mouth is in his serious line.

“The dreams? You've had them, too?”

He wants to sob. Of course Anthony has the dreams, too. There is hardly a single thing they ever do without each other. It only seems natural, now, to hear him say it.

“There's a name...” Anthony says. He closes his eyes for a moment, in concentration. “There's always a name, right out of my reach. I almost remember it, but then I don't. I... what is it?”

Pat can hardly breathe as the moments crawl by. He feels something building, then, starting from the tips of his toes all the way to his head. It fills him, makes him dizzy, and he's very glad to be sitting down. 

“Patroclus,” he breathes. Pat's heart stops. “Patroclus.”

Something shifts, clicks, and it slams into him like a brick wall. He's breathless, dizzy, almost suddenly delirious, because it's right. It fits, the name wrapping itself around him like a skin, and he feels like he's just woken from a very hazy dream. Everything seems clearer all of a sudden.

“ _Achilles_.”

“Patroclus,” Achilles says, and he sobs the name, pulling him across the seats. “Patroclus, _my_ Patroclus.”

They're crying, both of them, even as their mouths come together in a kiss that sears Patroclus from the inside out. They cling to each other, breathless, sobbing, touching every inch of each other just because they can. He runs his hands through Achilles's hair, over and over; across his face, his mouth, his cheekbones. Presses kisses to his eyes and his nose and his chin, tears streaming down both their faces.

“You're really here,” Achilles stutters. “Oh, god, you're here. You're alive. You're so beautiful- I've never seen anyone so beautiful, _Patroclus_.”

They have to wait to go home- Achilles's hands are shaking so badly he can't drive. But once he can, they're off, and he speeds down the roads like a bat out of hell, possessed with a fire in his eyes. They slam into his driveway, seem to float through the front door of his house. Achilles takes Patroclus into his at once familiar and foreign bedroom, locking the door swiftly behind them.

And then they are standing, staring at each other. Patroclus feels as if he's stepped into another universe.

Then they collide.

They crash into each other, close the small distance between them and wrap themselves around each other. They stand there this way for what feels like hours, just holding each other. Patroclus eventually pulls away just enough to look at Achilles. His eyes are so green, just like he remembers.

“I promised I would come back to you.”

“It only took you a few centuries, you jerk,” Achilles says through his tears.

Patroclus laughs, wiping the tears from Achilles's eyes, kissing his cheeks. They sit on the bed, and Achilles pulls Patroclus into his lap. They rest their foreheads together, just breathing, and crying, overwhelmed.

“I love you,” Achilles says then, quietly. “I have been waiting a hundred lifetimes to tell you how much I love you again.”

“I'm here. Tell me as many times as you can. I want to hear you say it.”

“Patroclus,” he says, touching their foreheads together again, “I love you. I love you more than the sky and the stars love each other- I love you so much that we are here, right now, even after all we went through.”

“Achilles, my Achilles,” he purrs. “My sun and stars.”

They stay this way for a while, murmuring soft nothings to each other, just holding each other. It is a miracle, to be here, touching his skin, the way that he used to all of those lifetimes ago. Achilles feels just as strong and sure as he did then, is just as beautiful and soft under Patroclus's hands. 

He invites himself over for the night, and Achilles's father doesn't mind. It's a normal routine between them, Patroclus often coming over and not leaving for days at a time. His father uses their new names, and they don't sound right on them. Patrick, Anthony- they are too bland, too new, do not taste as well on their tongues.

Things begin from there as they ended in centuries past. Not a single person within the school bats an eye as they hold hands in the hallways, and people clap when Achilles steals a kiss in the hallway before ducking into his biology class. They all knew, somewhere, that this was bound to happen.

There is not a single day where they are apart. They spend all of their nights together, tangled in sheets and limbs, touching, kissing, making love, sleeping. The presence of Achilles is the greatest gift, and Patroclus spends every moment he is able appreciating it, appreciating him. They're attached at the seams, hardly going a moment apart.

It is as it was always meant to be.

“I promised I would come back to you,” Patroclus says gently, stroking Achilles's mouth.

They're damp with sweat, tangled together, and Achilles's bedroom smells like sex and the summer breeze drifting through the window. His golden hair is stuck to his forehead, his eyes heavy and mouth swollen. 

“I have loved you beyond my life, and I promised I would come back. I'm here now. I can't believe I'm here now. I love you.”

Achilles smiles, pulls Patroclus in closer. They breathe each other in.

“You're never leaving me again,” Achilles says. “Never ever ever. I'll get everything right this time. We're going to get married. We'll live in our own house together, we'll be free and happy. No one will ever take you from me again. I will never live another day without you, Patroclus.”

“Good. I never intend for you to leave me again.”

Achilles kisses his cheek, his mouth, his neck. They're so close against each other that they physically can't get closer, but it still will perhaps never feel like enough. Achilles burrows his face into Patroclus's neck, and he hums, stroking that soft golden hair he loves so much. He kisses the top of Achilles's head, smiling.

It is one piece of their eternal happiness.


End file.
